Sanguine Heart
by FluffyGlitterPantsDragon
Summary: Lucifer is an impatient patient when he gets carted into Sacred Heart to deal with a very bad wound, requiring difficult decisions. Dan is a precious cinnamon roll, and Chloe has to maintain her distance. Assumed family Espinoza relationship, assumed Douchifer. I have the greatest Beta in the world, Just Mad Enough over on Archives
1. Chapter 1

Chloe's voice sounded very far away over speaker phone. She choked on her words. "Is Lucifer alright? Babe? Dan?"

Dan answered, trying to calm her down, "He's okay again, for now. Not to make you feel worse, but that episode was more serious than the last time you got too close. The broken bones must be really grinding on the fragments."

She sniffed. "...I hate this. I don't want to tell you how helpless I feel out here, I know you guys are doing everything you can but I'm just about losing my mind."

"I know, he misses you too. They're going to try to get an IV and pain meds in him without you in range for now."

Carla found herself kneeling on the cold floor next to her cousin with her heels tucked under. She didn't recall purposefully sinking to the floor, but she must have done so when she launched herself at Lucifer.

She hadn't let go of his muscular, heavy right arm, holding it up with both her hands, his body heat seeping up into her skin and bones. Her fingers weren't at his wrist, but she could still feel his steady pulse through her grip. He must be a wonderful heating blanket for his partners in cooler months.

Razor blades can do significant damage to a human body. The smooth floor should be sticky with fresh, quickly cooling blood, spreading on the linoleum tiles and sinking into the crevasses between them. A quick - and from the looks of it vicious - slice like that should have severed tendons, blood vessels and muscles, opening him to the bone. Reality hung over her head like Damocles' sword.

Right now, right this instant, Lucifer was any other patient under her slender, prodding fingers. Someone broke him and he needed help. He was her patient to care for, be he angel or demon or anything else. Over the course of her career she'd provided medical care without judgement to murderers and children alike. _Okay,_ she told herself, _SOME judgement for truly crappy adults._ But she never once let it impact how she treated their wounds and illnesses. She thumbed his central tendon on the inside of his wrist and his fingers curled and contracted involuntarily, like anyone else's would. The onyx stone in his ring appeared to stare at her like a blind, accusing eye. The sight of it made her shiver more than anything else she's seen today.

She lifted her chin and found his dark, slightly unfocused, and harried gaze and knew it was time to do her job and save the big, scary questions for later.

Turk recovered, absorbing the mechanics of the problem and bringing Carla back to herself with a simple, straight-forward question. "How am I supposed to cut him open, if he can't be cut open?" Annoyance, rather than incredulity came through his tone.

Dan took Lucifer's hand from Carla's smaller ones, absently turning it over and running his thumb over the black stone ring. Penetrating heat and a thin layer of sweat coalesced between Lucifer's palm and Dan's. "One sec. Let's get you up on the hospital bed, buddy. Can someone grab the gown?"

Pain alone can make a man vomit. If that happened, Lucifer would hide in his penthouse for the next three months. Lightbringer. Pride. Fall. You do the math.

The sickest Dan had ever been in life had been due to a horrific stomach flu years ago that left him curled up in the shower, naked and definitely not wanting to be seen by anyone. Pure misery wrapped up in a shit burrito combined with praying no one found him like that if he died of it. He could only imagine Lucifer felt similar, minus the praying part.

His partner wasn't the only one who could drown in pride. After having spent far too long under a steady stream of cold water, he had cleaned the shower stall and crawled into bed before Chloe and Trixie got home. They never knew how violently sick he'd been.

He assisted Lucifer back to standing, with care. The latter's color began to return to something above 'vampire' and edging into 'Jim the albino Radiologist.'

Carla scooped up the sad, thin fabric and returned. "I can get you a couple of blankets too. There's an IV bag up on the rolling bed with a morphine drip. It automatically limits how much can be delivered over time, but I can override that."

Lucifer eyed the bed with open reluctance, leaning on Dan, who tried a gentle suggestion. "Might at least help the docs to find out how long it takes you to blow through a few doses of opiates."

The Devil sat on what could only be generously termed a mattress, stubbornly not dressing. "It's not like I measure out cocaine by the gram, but I suppose we can try."

Carla washed her hands and grabbed gloves and supplies from the box on the wall, ignoring the casual mention of substance abuse. She prepared the IV line and needle. Her expertise let her quickly find a good vein in his right arm. "We do need to get an IV in for surgery, so I'm _assuming_ you had a plan for that part if it came to it."

Dan motioned to the blonde Doctor. "She in your circle too? 'That part' has another layer of significance that maybe only you and his surgeon should know."

Carla glanced down at Elliot while sweeping a prepared alcohol wipe over the inside of his elbow. "Elliot was the one who asked Lucifer to come up last month so she could do a paper on his...Persona. If we need anyone else to run interference, she'd be the one to do it. So right now, we have a nurse, a doctor and a surgeon; that will be helpful."

She added, matter-of-factly, "Elliot's my best friend. She's a bit of a flake, but she's a good person and a good Doctor. We trust her."

Elliot had pulled herself up from where she'd been crouching by Lucifer. She shook herself. "I guess my paper will have to be shelved now."

Lucifer seemed to notice she was there again. "Why's that?"

"I wrote it on the assumption you _weren't_ something supernatural."

"Mistake on your part, I'm afraid." He sat stiffly, uncomfortable with the hubbub.

Dan chewed the inside of his lip, not liking how much pain Lucifer must actually be in. He made a decision.

Pulling out the wickedly curved one-handed dagger from inside his jacket, Dan presented it to Carla, handle first. Lucifer shied away from it out of long ingrained reflex, not yet keen to the fact that someone could be trusted with Mazes' knives who _wasn't_ Maze. Dan cringed at just having to port around the damn thing. He hoped they wouldn't ask him to do any of the _honors_.

"This blade can pierce his skin, and it's from a matching set of the only things on earth that can do it, under normal circumstances. Carla, he can be maimed or killed with it, and I'm trusting you guys with this knowledge. The set belongs to Maze, and this one doesn't leave my sight, or she'll use her other one on _me_. Understand?"

Affronted, Carla looked away from Lucifer to him. "I'm a _nurse_ , Dan, all pointy objects I use are tools, not weapons."

"I just want to impress on you how serious this thing is." Dan didn't even like the look of it, silver etched and every inch of deadly hell-forged metal, never mind the pretty design. Venomous snakes wear the brightest coloring, after all. He'd seen them in passing before he _knew_ , and anything even existing that could kill an immortal didn't rest easily on his mind. Especially since said immortal was _his_ , dammit.

Carla cocked her head, hands occupied and in gloves. "Elliot, can you use that thing to make me an incision here?"

The question knocked Dr. Reid into professional mode, much like Turk had responded when presented with a tough surgical job. "Give it here." Taking it, she tested the edge and tip with a thumb, eyeing it critically. "Shouldn't I sterilize this?"

Lucifer growled. "No need."

She took a quick look around for something to test the cutting edges on. Finding nothing else suitable, she settled for the tubing of her own stethoscope. Then, giving Lucifer a _very_ pointed look _,_ she disinfected it. She didn't care if he was Satan, God or whatever. Better safe than sorry. Satisfied, Elliot poised the pointed tip where Carla indicated. "Uh… will this hurt you worse than a normal knife would? If… you know, a normal knife would work on you? Because I've never cut open anyone who wasn't human. At least I don't think I did and…" Lucifer shot her a glare that made her stop her rambling. She took it as the only okay to go ahead she was going to get, so she went with it, doubts or not.

Carla tied on a tourniquet, yanking the rubber tight. A single drop of blood welled up against the knife point and Elliot got out of the way. Carla moved, slipping the IV needle through firmly, quickly and taping it in place. Lucifer grunted but didn't comment. The creepy blade edge made a horizontal tear in his skin rather than a pinhole - she didn't like it, but it worked.

"Okay." She took the pre-readied saline solution, connected the syringe to the IV line and slowly depressed the plunger, making sure the fluid didn't collect in a pocket, or even outside the vein. But it went in smoothly and she breathed out in relief. One obstacle down.

Elliot gingerly gave the dagger back to Dan, stepping away to wash her hands again. "Where did that thing come from?"

"You don't want to know. But that reminds me, Chloe? Are you still texting Maze?"

"Yeah, she's in the loop. _Not_ happy, but in the loop."

Dan tucked the blade back into his jacket, one-handed, the other holding Lucifer's. Elliot's heart turned over, watching them. The same kind of scenes played out here at the hospital over and over again - a nervous loved one and an unhappy patient stuck in various levels of pain or immobility. Or both.

Carla checked her watch, exchanged the syringe for the morphine drip and opened the line tap. She watched the first drops of morphine go into the line, monitoring her patient. "I'm starting with a dose based on your estimated body weight."

Lucifer sank back a little, Dan guiding him to a resting position so he wouldn't put weight on his left arm. The Devil clung to Dan's hand, perhaps without intending to. Warmth washed through his body, displacing at least some of the grinding, stabbing hot pokers embedded in his back.

He took a full breath for the first time in days and let it out in a low, relieved groan.

Dan unconsciously took a breath with him.

"I want to see how long a dose lasts before I give you more." Carla checked her watch again, jotting notes on the clipboard.

Turk grease-marked something else on his tablet. "It's going to take a while to find all the bits."

Dan peeked at the tablet. "Even with the x-ray?"

"Okay, I can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but since his skin healed over the wound - flawlessly - I'm going to guess that several muscles and tendons did too. Which means there's no clear path to either the bullets or fragments. They're more or less held in place, but could still slip around. The initial gunshot wound probably caused a lot of tissue damage, but I'm not seeing much of that now."

"Yeah, most of the time they just go straight through, or fall right back out."

"..."

"We _do_ try hard not to let him get shot when Chloe's around, but he gets...enthusiastic."

Elliot cocked her head. "What happens when she's not around?"

"Uhm. Nothing except ruined clothing." By the look on Lucifer's unhappy frown, that was a worse fate than the bullets currently ruining his _insides_.

Turk continued. " _Anyway_. He has some bones in here I don't even have names for. I hope the freaky _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ artifact isn't your only suggestion for getting into him. _Tell_ me you have another way for us to work on him."

"We do. Chloe has a… very unique effect on Lucifer, for reasons I'd rather not get into. When she's physically close enough, Lucifer can be hurt like anyone else." Dan gave Lucifer's hand a squeeze. "Otherwise, he's as he is now."

Carla glared. _Logistics. Keep thinking about logistics._ "Luci? You've got to be kidding me. You went in _knowing_ you could get hurt?"

Lucifer grimaced. "Actually, getting shot wasn't my intention. But, It's funny how when one spends enough time out of Hell, one grows slightly fond of one's coworkers. And _they_ were getting shot at." He looked down his body, as if surprised to notice Dan's hand still in his.

"Well, I can tell the morphine is working at least. Three minutes so far. Luci, can you give me a pain scale from one to ten?"

"Maybe a six. Opiates are one of Dad's better inventions."

She blew out. She _really_ wanted to ask what that was about Chloe shooting him, but now was definitely not the time. He sounded much more like himself though, voice less tight and clipped; nearly pain-free again, which was reassuring in and of itself. "Okay, you should be feeling less pain than that, even with the fractures. But if you don't mind, I'm going to wait until they're no longer affecting you to administer more."

Turk came back around. "Stupid question time. What the _hell_ are those extra bits? I have to carve around another shoulder joint? Because that's the closest comparison I can find."

Lucifer one-shoulder shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest what to call those, and I doubt you'll be cataloguing them. _I'll_ be fine if you have to sever things, but it won't be pretty if they pop out without a solid support structure." His lips tightened a little. "It won't be pretty if they pop out at all, actually."

"...If what pop out? Are you going to go all Alien on me? Cause if so, I'm handing this off to the Todd as primary. There's only so much weirdness I'm prepared to handle."

Lucifer and Dan looked at each other. Dan spoke. "They're wings. They're _a lot_ bigger than they look folded up. The vast majority of them aren't..." He gestured vaguely "…'here'."

Turk flipped his screen images between the different x-rays. "Bigger than a Turkey?"

Carla rolled her eyes. "Of course he goes straight to the farm birds."

"Ostrich?"

Dan rubbed his face. "More functional. Pretty classically what we think of as 'angel', actually. We were trying to avoid exposing you to them, but you and anyone else in the O.R. could be hurt if they come out during surgery. Lucifer's body eats drugs for breakfast though and we have no idea what will happen under anesthesia. So."

 _Logistics. Concentrate on what you need to do._ She checked her watch again. "Six minutes. "Luci?"

"It's wearing off."

She leaned over him, holding a pen light up to his eyes. _Dammit._ "Okay, I'll give it one more minute. You are going to give the anesthesiologist nightmares."

His breathing tightened again, hitched. He swallowed. "I'd rather not give anyone nightmares."

Carla jumped. _What did I say?_ She timed his pulse.

"Thirty more seconds. Hang in there, Chicken Little."

That distracted him. "What?"

Elliot snorted. "You're doomed. She gave you a nickname."

"Doomed? Don't be ridiculous. I know all about doomed, and this is not it. Nero, now, he was doomed. Did you know they built him his own bridge to enter Hell? It's all gilded arches and marble walkways. Soldiers cheering him on left and right. He honestly thought he was welcomed into heaven, right until the moment when he stepped of and the soldiers took their masks off. See, they were all people for whose death he had been directly responsible, people he actually knew and betrayed anyway."

"...I just meant that she likes you. But… good story, I think?" She turned around to Carla, trying to gauge her reaction, trying to get a pointer at how she should act, but her friend had apparently decided to ignore any weird things that came out of their patients mouth for the moment, and thus just went on as if no one had talked at all.

"I'm just triple checking your vitals before I give you more. I think we're good. I'm going to step you up now to a higher dose."

She pushed the meds again. He relaxed, breathing deeply and his eyes went a little unfocused. "That's nice, but I can think of much better reasons to be horizontal this long."

Dan rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Yup, he's feeling better already."

Turk's phone buzzed with a page "O.R. is ready. Todd wants to know why I haven't sent the x-rays yet. He'll have to sit on his hands until we get there. Dr. Page was on call for anesthesia."

Carla went behind Lucifer's bed. "Okay, Elliot, you go ahead and make sure our path is clear and Turk and I will follow you. I only need a minute to pile a few blankets on him. Dan, can you grab them out of that cabinet?"

Chloe's voice drifted over, "Hey, which side of the hospital is the O.R. on?"

"Right wing from the main parking lot. _Your_ right facing the hospital. We should hang up now, but text if you need to."

Lucifer grumbled. "Can't you just do this with me awake?"

Turk and Carla exchanged a look, answering simultaneously. "No."

He huffed. "Well, why not? I participated in the Greatest Fall of History - unwilling or not. I'm sure this can't be any worse than _that_." Unimpressed stares. _Really now, this is ridiculous_.

"How about just drugging me to the gills?"

Turk patted his leg through the scratchy hospital blankets. "You're going to be fine, buddy."

"I am _not_ your buddy. And the lights are nauseating. Half of your drop tiles should be replaced."

Exasperated, "Just close your eyes and stop looking at the ceiling."

Dan walked on Lucifer's left. More empty beds rested against the hallway walls. "Hey, if you need blood, can I donate?"

Carla smiled across from him, on the other side of the rolling bed. "That's a sweet thought, Cuz. We don't have his blood typed yet, but we should have time to take a unit of double red cells from you, since they still have to prep Todd. Keep in mind, they won't be able to use it if you aren't a match, but it'll get used by _someone_ even if he can't."

"Yeah, I'd like to do that. Or maybe Chloe can if I'm not."

The Devil piped up. "My body should be able to just use it. Nothing human or human-made can harm me. Usually. Are we there yet?"

Turk sighed. "How about you let us run the type test and we'll decide so we don't accidently cause massive blood clots?"

"Do I get any say in the matter?"

"At this point, you really don't."

Lucifer swallowed. He reached up to rub at his chest

He coughed.

It was a little thing - a short, contracted exhale.

Dan ran his fingers through Lucifer's hair gently. He was in a cold sweat again. "The morphine must be working, at least. Chloe's nearby again and he's still not passing out from pain." he texted her to tell her she's in the right place for surgery, now, and to back away until called.

Lucifer's breathing became shallow and rapid. Confusion and not a little tension crept up his face.

Carla stopped rolling and yanked her stethoscope off her neck. It didn't take her long to figure out what went wrong, not for something this common in an ICU. Red flags flew. Her husband caught it too, exchanging a look with her.

"Hey, Dan? Do me a favor and tell Chloe to get in here? And to be quick about it?"

To his credit, he didn't ask any questions, just squeezed Lucifer's hand once, reassuringly. He stepped away and hit speed dial with a backward glance. Chloe picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, did you move away yet?"

"Yeah, I went back to where I started." She sounded a little miffed.

"Right. Change of plans. Get in here. We're outside the O.R., follow the signs to your right? Right from the front door." A second of silence, then with an inhaled breath, "Alright. On it." There was a time to question instructions and a time to follow them, she knew which was which.

Dan dropped the phone into his pocket, not bothering to jab the red 'end call' symbol. Returning at a fast clip to Lucifer's side, a few steps that suddenly felt longer.

"She's comin-" Dan arrested his movement, eyes drawn to the minor but telling differences in Lucifer's exposed skin. He wanted the onsetting bluish tinge to be either a trick of the light or his imagination, but he feared otherwise. The brick that dropped into the pit of his stomach didn't help either. The fact that his Devil seemed mostly out of it, hand lax in his, eyes more than halfway closed, didn't help at all. _No, no no no…_

His heart wound up like a screw, forgetting to breathe himself. "...Carla?"

His cousin's face grew soft and worried, which made _him_ worry more. She drew up to meet his lighter eyes, 'Nurse Face' fully engaged. "His lung collapsed, don't worry-"

"Don't worry?! What the fuck! Do something!"

Okay, so maybe it's not a good idea to shout at the people trying to help, but give him a break. Even heavenly beings needed functional lungs. _And_ breath to fucking survive!

"Dan, sweetie, it will be fine. We're nearly in the O.R. and he's still getting enough air until we get there. Calm down, you're not helping him. Talk to him." She motioned to the prone man, whose eyes were a bit more open now, tracking them. Worried. Afraid, even if he'd never admit it.

 _Deep breaths, Espinoza. You can lose the plot later._ "Yeah. Okay, yeah… so hey, Luce, did I ever tell you about Trixie's first time riding a bike? Chloe and I…" It was an easy 'go-to' story, one he'd told before at kids parties to other adults and it rolled off his tongue without thinking too hard about it.

He didn't know if Lucifer was listening to the story, or just to his voice, but he seemed calmer either way. They got Lucifer into the O.R. and onto the table there in record time.

Chloe rounded the corner just then. She had her badge out and visible, meaning she flashed it at someone on the way in, but still missing seeing them by seconds. She found the observation window, leaning on it.

They got him settled as fast as possible. By now, Lucifer barely noticed anything at all, the morphine and lack of _air,_ even with the oxygen mask now covering his nose and mouth _,_ taking their toll even on him.

Carla kept checking the boxes on everything they did against protocol. There were barely any fucking boxes _left_ by now.

None of them were properly scrubbed in, Todd was sitting in a corner, banned there by her glare, and the anesthesiologist kept shooting them worried glances. But needs must, so Turk slapped on a mask and a fresh pair of gloves - foregoing proper procedure again - took a scalpel and turned himself into the first human being to perform surgery on the Devil. Probably.

This was a problem more or less easily alleviated until the real fix could be done. Tiny incision, insert tube, fixate tube. Barring further complications, that would do the trick for now.

Dan tasted acid in his throat. He had seen bodies in truly horrible shape, but nothing trumped the sound of air being released from Lucifer's pleural space or the wet bubbling when the blood started to flow out from where it shouldn't have been in the first place. Police work somehow seemed easier than watching a loved one rescued by piercing a hole in them. _And leaving the fucking tube in._

Lucifer's color improved rapidly. After the first few proper breaths he seemed to be more aware of his surroundings. His near-black eyes focused on the much hated overhead lights, then Dan.

Dan let go of Lucifer's hand, and a breath, feeling like things were under control again. It went against every single hospital rule for him to be in here at all. There was no way he was going to be allowed to stay here during the actual surgery, nor did he actually want to. "See you on the other side." _Simple. Keep it simple for now, don't break down where he can see._

Lucifer smirked from the bed, attempting not to look miserable. "That can have other connotations you know." He winced with speaking but looked relieved he could.

"You know what I mean, Satan."

"Douche."

Turk shook his head. "J.D. better never feel pissy about 'Bambi' again. I'll send you over to the vampire unit and you won't see me again until after surgery. Any last things we should know?"

"Most of the feathers have sharp edges?" It fell flat, as far as jokes went, but he was trying not to panic. His hands were firmly stuffed into his pockets so nobody would notice them shaking from the adrenaline rush. He worked on breathing normally.

"Okay, great. So I get to look forward to possible death by a thousand paper cuts, too?"

"...I'll just go get my butt to the blood center and hope they don't disqualify me."

"You do that. I still have to explain John Doe and what we need to do surgically, to Todd."

The Detective hesitated. "Can I have a second?"

"We're on the clock and off the books, remember? Make it quick."

Dan bit his lip, glancing at Turk, who rolled his eyes. Probably having already seen every version _ever_ of this before.

Lucifer looked up expectantly, quirking his lips.

He darted in, pushed down the mask and cupped Lucifers jaw softly, stubble scratching his fingers. "We'll be waiting for you." he breathed in, pressing a quick kiss that Lucifer returned with more energy Dan thought he would have had to spare.

"Y'all are disgustingly cute. Now shoo, Cuz."

Dan ducked his head and took off.

* * *

Post scrubbing in, Todd regarded their patient with oddly minor curiosity. Turk frankly had counted on it, relieved he didn't ask too many questions unrelated to the planned procedure itself.

Turk ran an eye over everything, again. "Just think of him as our very own X-Men. Man. The one with the wings."

Above the oxygen mask, Lucifer's eyes took in the room, which was both good _and_ bad. Good because the chest tube seemed to be doing its job. Bad because…well, _for fucks sake, the guy chewed through morphine like Cox through new interns._

"Dude! Archangel five!", holding his hand up.

Lucifer glared.

Turk shook his head. "Todd, just 'Angel'. Archangel was the upgrade, he got replacement wings made of some kind of silvery-blue metal. Angel had 'regular' wings."

Lucifer glared harder. He was _not_ an X-man, no matter that he actually had replacement wings.

Todd seemed to think about it. "...Dude,"

"Metal wings would be harder to work around. Probably heavier too."

Todd glanced up at the surgical lights mounted from the ceiling. "Do we need wing clamps?"

Turk paused in arranging his tray of delicate instruments. Lucifer rolled his eyes straight back. "We should be good."

Lucifer's eyes asked a question.

"Oh, Dan's blood turned out to work fine, so will Chloe's. You'll want to know that you're AB positive, so you can accept anyone's blood. Should save us from having to use our in-house supply."

For some reason, Lucifer looked vaguely annoyed at the news. Turk wasn't sure which part he reacted to.

"Okay, _Angel_ , that nice lady over there, Dr. Paige Page - yes, that's her real name, no, there's no joke she _hasn't_ heard about it before - is going to count back from ten and you should be out by the time she gets to six. We're in an operating room with an observation lounge, so Dan and Chloe may or may not come by to watch, depending on their ability to stomach watching us digging around in your back for scrap metal."

"And last thing -" He stood poised near what looked suspiciously like a an old-style _CD_ player. "I hope you like _Bell Biv Davoe."_

* * *

Chloe leaned on Dan, standing at the observation window. The 'vampires' only took one unit of blood. She didn't meet the weight requirement to donate two, and she didn't even look like she could fudge her numbers for it.

She could see the doctors talking to one another, but the thick reinforced glass made it nearly impossible to make out anything other than that they had some kind of music playing. In the observation lounge, the air-conditioning vents hummed, generating white noise. Turk did a little dance shuffle, making her chuckle in her throat. They moved casually, confidently, getting down to business and taking up positions at the table that were familiar to them, even if the man on the table wasn't.

Chloe felt helpless. Lucifer actually was.

Because of her.

Again.

Lucifer explained the 'vulnerability' issue. Really explained, after she saw him for who he was. She since heard about the him going to hell, but she hadn't been aware at the time. She hadn't seen him lying dead. He wasn't dying here, but chronic pain was no picnic either.

One of the many things she loved about him was that nothing held him back. She didn't know how the body/soul thing worked though. If he died here, would he be stuck in hell? Would he be a soul only, or would he have a real, physical body? What would happen to his actual body - would it rot, like any other, or stay perfect and unchanged forever? There was a reason his vulnerability was a problem, right, not just temporary death?

He was under anesthesia and on his stomach, a sheet covering most of him. Under his black satin penthouse sheets, his form looked completely different. There was something about just _being_ in a hospital that added tension to everything. She could barely make out the too-rhythmic breathing of the ventilator they'd put him on. She knew it had to happen. She did. She knew that for whatever reason, his angelic constitution couldn't deal with the metal fragments. That wouldn't even be _in_ him if not for her.

The three medical professionals didn't so much as glance toward the observation window, invested in preparation. Dr. Page monitored the various machines and other hardware clinging to her Devil so closely she didn't have attention to spare anyone else. She wasn't participating in whatever Todd and Turk were doing.

Steel flashed under the operating room light, and Turk spared them a single look over his face mask to see if they wanted to move away now. They didn't.

Elliot came through the doors, looking, well, sane."Hey, guys."

Chloe turned a little startled, "Elliot? Hi. Sorry, do you prefer Dr. Reid here?"

"Whichever. Just don't call me mole-butt."

"...You got it. You ever do...surgery?"

"Nah. We all went through the same classes though, which included cutting into cadavers. I prefer responsive patients whenever possible. Ella probably did some of the same training to get into forensics."

She nodded, mind not really on the responses, "Turk is...good, right?"

"He wouldn't have lasted this long if he wasn't. From what I hear, only Todd is higher on the surgical totem pole for Residents. For real though, Turk asks for more difficult surgeries all the time, and gets them. This one is pretty straight-forward - the removing-stuff-from-people-thing is pretty standard."

Dan broke away from staring through the window, incredulous. "Todd? The high-five guy?"

She laughed, combing her bangs out of her face. "Totally. He doesn't get in his own head. They're the best two you could ask for, aside from Dr. Wen, Head of Surgery."

Chloe arched an eyebrow. "Either way, I owe you guys a few rounds of drinks. And then some. Uhm. I didn't catch everything over the phone, are you...?"

"Okay since I found out my paper is probably useless? I don't know if you have heard of my ability to dive headfirst into a steaming pot of denial, but it's working pretty well right now." She nodded to herself. "Everything aside, getting to look at something new, medically, is always fascinating. And this is new. Who knows, maybe we'll end up getting more strange visitors in need of help."

"You'd be okay with that?"

"Are you kidding? How exciting would that be? I mean, not that it would become a recognized specialty or anything. But still. Turk is probably kicking himself because he knows he can't publish anything about about this. I know I am."

Dan looked back at the procedure now underway. He swallowed. Turk had been busy - several skin clamps were employed, poking up like a silver porcupine to make a clear operating area. Todd appeared to be carefully lifting a ...bloodied _something_ for Turk with another thin instrument, from opposite sides of their patient. They were still working within the expanded incision, so not much was actually visible from their angle. Thankfully.

Turk caught them watching, so he displayed a bit of metal in surgical tongs for them. It was barely visible, but he held it aloft like a gory trophy. He dropped it in a metal bowl and went back in, switching to long, narrow tweezers.

Elliot stepped up closer to watch with them. "See, he's already getting stuff out of him."

Dan held Chloe. She buried her nose in his shoulder, breathing in his comforting, familiar scent,taking the comfort offered. Minutes passed and Chloe found herself starting to accept that the goofy men on the other side of the glass knew what they were doing.

She directed a question at Elliot. "Did you always want to be a doctor?"

"Since I was little. Yeah. I thought about going the vet route instead, but all cats hate me for some reason. I only get along with Rowdy because he's stuffed. Oh, and also, goats? Nasty, disgusting things."

"Goats?"

"Goats and rabbits despise me. Those assholes bite. Pretty much everything bites. Have you ever had a rabbit bark at you? It's a little unnerving."

"Lucifer doesn't like goats either. I think that's the second time I've heard about 'Rowdy'?"

Elliot didn't miss a beat. "Turk and J.D.'s dead golden retriever."

Chloe didn't know what to make of that. Dan spared them a glance.

"Oh, they found him that way, at a yard sale. He wasn't actually _their_ dog."

 _Is that better or worse?_ "Uh huh. Are the three of them… ?"

"Pfft. No. J.D. and Turk are the walking definition of a bromance, but that's all. It's actually really nice to see men who aren't terrified to be close friends in public. True fact: Turk will hug J.D., but no one else he isn't married to."

"Speaking of which, is anyone going to come looking for you? Dan mentioned something in passing about J.D.?"

"Nah, I told _him_ the Janitor told _me_ that he came back to work tonight to stalk him in one of the men's bathrooms. He's totally preoccupied with going down to the bar to pee. Which means he'll be doing it every ten to fifteen minutes out of sheer paranoia for at least another hour. He'll probably hear about our John Doe eventually, but he'll be out of our hair tonight."

A smirk crossed Chloe's face. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"John Doe. J.D."

Elliot giggled. "I'm so using that the next time we get a real John Doe admitted."

"Still, you don't want your other doctor friend in on this?"

She crossed her arms against the cold room. "Naaaaaaaaaaaaah. Not yet. I'm still mad at him for dumping me at Carla's rehearsal dinner. Plus, there's nothing to diagnose, which is kinda his bag. Turk won't be able to keep his mouth shut, at least to J.D., but a month or so will pass where he thinks Turk is pulling a massive prank on him, then he'll come to me after he figures out I _was_ actually here, and then I get to mess with him some more. So I basically win all around. For me, that is."

"He _dumped_ you at a wedding rehearsal dinner?"

"Yuuuuup."

"Screw that guy."

"Ha! Never again."

The levity helped Chloe. No matter what, Lucifer would live through this. He wasn't in mortal danger, even if life had sucked for him for the last week.

And then Lucifer's shoulders flexed. Todd and Turk looked at Dr. Page, who did something.

Dan noticed it too, his throat suddenly dry. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Elliot squinted at the table inside. "What?"

All three of them leaned in together to peer through the window.

The leading edge of white feathers _slammed_ into the reinforced glass with a blunt thud.

"FRICK!" Elliot plastered herself against the far wall, grabbing at the neck of her scrubs.

Dan yelped, "Son of a bitch!" Chloe had embedded her nails into his forearm.

"CHRIST ON A BIKE!" Five seconds punctuated by metallic clattering passed over an eternity. Turk's voice carried over again, a little thready. "We're okay. X-man missed us."

Dan yelled, "Is _he_ okay?!"

The closer wing edge slid down the window, revealing a mess. The far one, the left one, was more red than white. It had sent a number of instruments flying and violently overturned a cart. Crimson coated feathers appeared to stick to the opposite O.R. wall with bloody surface tension. Lucifer's body hadn't moved. He wasn't awake mid-surgery, at least.

Turk indicated the comm wasn't two-way, but added, "Sorry, I meant all of us! He's okay too! We have some more work to do though. I'm pretty sure he threw out a bullet too." He looked up at the ceiling, presumably for said bullet. Todd was a little cross-eyed. "He didn't throw out anything important."

Chloe held her mouth. Her stomach roiled. Where the left wing erupted from the damaged shoulder, it angled a bit _wrong_. Tendon and pale, gleaming bone anchored where she might have expected it, but a longer flat bit stuck up, away, wet strings of viscera stretched taut between bone and body. Where the wing normally blended into skin, a torn gash the entire width of the wing base gaped wide, short wet feathers above and raw skin edge below.

The ventilator pumped, tubes undisturbed. Lucifer's IV, however, ripped out in the commotion, yanked by his own wing.

Todd snapped out of it, checking their patient and hurried to get a new needle out of sterile packing and into the thankfully-still-unconscious man, re-connecting it to the IV bags.

That done, he moved under and re-positioned the blood spattered wing so it wasn't pulling itself out of the socket with its own weight. He propped it up over another rolling cart, while Turk walked back and forth a few times, nodded and went back to work. "Would one of you mind telling Carla I'm gonna need a new pair of scrub pants after this? For them too, probably. Actually, Elliot, scrub in and join us here, I think we need more hands. I need a new set of sterile tools, too."

Dr. Page hadn't moved a fraction of an inch, maintaining her task at hand. They didn't know if she remained just that focused or was slipping into shock. EIther way, Lucifer himself didn't come out from under the drugs.

When Turk felt certain the last fragment had been found and removed, they sent Chloe out again.

Turk was easily persuaded not to install a plate and screws. They had sent Chloe away after all the foreign objects had been removed and, lo and behold, flesh and bone did indeed begin to knit together right under their noses. Stitches also proved unnecessary. Dan called Chloe back the _second_ the last signs of the incisions on his back had disappeared again.

Within minutes of Paige slumping away from her machine, Lucifer came out of it..

Regardless, he couldn't be wheeled out of the O.R. with his wings dragging on the floor.

De-tubed, all around, he eagerly pulled himself into a sitting position. Then he took in the blood spattered surgeons.

"That seems like a rather lot of-" Lucifer caught a view behind him. "Well, this is slightly awkward."

He spotted his Detectives outside the observation window and waved at them.

Turk got his attention. "Uhm. Can you put those things away so we can clean up?"

Lucifer fluffed his sticky left wing. Or tried to. "Have you got a hose?"

Paige opted not to even turn around until everyone else had left.

* * *

Chloe perched on the hospital bed next to Lucifer, both sitting up. Their hospital helpers insisted he stay for at least a little while just for observation. The Devil flatly refused to put the gown back on, and finally got his trousers and jacket back, both items lying folded on a chair. In the meantime, he went buff under the blanket.

Before too long, Carla knocked and came in with a little glass jar, marked 'HAZARDOUS WASTE'. Several metal bits tinked against each other inside, sharp and shattered.

"I thought you might want to take a look at these, maybe take them back with you."

Dan took the jar from her. "They are kinda weird. Were any of the bullets intact?"

"Nope. This is everything Turk and Todd removed. He thought something embedded into the ceiling but they couldn't find it."

"Might as well bring these back to Ella. Maybe she can figure out which gun fired them. We had multiple shooters that night."

Carla tucked her hands in her pockets. "How are you doing, Luci?" She noted the lack of a gown. "I just wanted to look at your shoulder if that's okay?"

He smiled and started to hop out of the bed.

She coughed. "You can stay there."

Lucifer's velvet voice was back with a vengeance. "You've already seen everything, darling."

Chloe smirked.

Carla licked her lips. He really _was_ temptation itself, wasn't he? "You're also a foot and a half taller than me."

He gamely stayed on the bed, turning for her, but not without throwing in a 'your loss' look.

Carla manipulated his shoulders, one then the other, checking his range of motion. Not something she would normally do on a patient an hour out of surgery.

He looked good, but she grumbled anyway. "By rights, you should be here another week. You all can go home, soon, we're just organizing the paperwork. You blew through about 26 hours worth of anesthesia so we're trying to figure out how to explain that. And before you offer to pay the bill, it's not a matter of just charging you for it, as it was used in a _two hour_ period."

Lucifer stretched when she let go, arms above his head. "This almost feels better than sex, after a week of not being able to stretch properly." He was well aware she got a fantastic view of his back. He arched, reaching for the ceiling. "You and your colleagues do good work."

"Uhmmm."

Dan couldn't help but grin at her face. He did have a _very_ nice backside.

"Would it help if I offered to make a donation, if the dreaded _paperwork_ doesn't allow for an itemized bill?"

"Oh, I'm sure it would, but it might need to be a bit more than we would actually figure out how to charge you?"

"Shouldn't be a problem."

She smiled wryly. "Make it enough, and you get a wing named after you, or at least a conference room."

He made a last sensual groan and dropped his arms. "Oh, that sounds fun. The Lucifer Morningstar Wing at Sacred Heart?"

Carla fanned herself and stepped away. "Ahem. Speaking of wings?" She picked at her stethoscope.

"Yes?"

"Can I…?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes dramatically, gathering the blanket around his waist this time, before swinging off the bed. "I don't do this for just anyone, you know."

* * *

The following morning, the Janitor was called to fix a resistant door in surgery. After checking all the hinges and finding nothing, he poked into the top and bottom edges. A single long, white, now thoroughly mangled and blood-encrusted feather was jammed into an overhead corner.


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe's voice sounded very far away over speaker phone. She choked on her words. "Is Lucifer alright? Babe? Dan?"

Dan answered, trying to calm her down, "He's okay again, for now. Not to make you feel worse, but that episode was more serious than the last time you got too close. The broken bones must be really grinding on the fragments."

She sniffed. "...I hate this. I don't want to tell you how helpless I feel out here, I know you guys are doing everything you can but I'm just about losing my mind."

"I know, he misses you too. They're going to try to get an IV and pain meds in him without you in range for now."

Carla found herself kneeling on the cold floor next to her cousin with her heels tucked under. She didn't recall purposefully sinking to the floor, but she must have done so when she launched herself at Lucifer.

She hadn't let go of his muscular, heavy right arm, holding it up with both her hands, his body heat seeping up into her skin and bones. Her fingers weren't at his wrist, but she could still feel his steady pulse through her grip. He must be a wonderful heating blanket for his partners in cooler months.

Razor blades can do significant damage to a human body. The smooth floor should be sticky with fresh, quickly cooling blood, spreading on the linoleum tiles and sinking into the crevasses between them. A quick - and from the looks of it vicious - slice like that should have severed tendons, blood vessels and muscles, opening him to the bone. Reality hung over her head like Damocles' sword.

Right now, right this instant, Lucifer was any other patient under her slender, prodding fingers. Someone broke him and he needed help. He was her patient to care for, be he angel or demon or anything else. Over the course of her career she'd provided medical care without judgement to murderers and children alike. _Okay,_ she told herself, _SOME judgement for truly crappy adults._ But she never once let it impact how she treated their wounds and illnesses. She thumbed his central tendon on the inside of his wrist and his fingers curled and contracted involuntarily, like anyone else's would. The onyx stone in his ring appeared to stare at her like a blind, accusing eye. The sight of it made her shiver more than anything else she's seen today.

She lifted her chin and found his dark, slightly unfocused, and harried gaze and knew it was time to do her job and save the big, scary questions for later.

Turk recovered, absorbing the mechanics of the problem and bringing Carla back to herself with a simple, straight-forward question. "How am I supposed to cut him open, if he can't be cut open?" Annoyance, rather than incredulity came through his tone.

Dan took Lucifer's hand from Carla's smaller ones, absently turning it over and running his thumb over the black stone ring. Penetrating heat and a thin layer of sweat coalesced between Lucifer's palm and Dan's. "One sec. Let's get you up on the hospital bed, buddy. Can someone grab the gown?"

Pain alone can make a man vomit. If that happened, Lucifer would hide in his penthouse for the next three months. Lightbringer. Pride. Fall. You do the math.

The sickest Dan had ever been in life had been due to a horrific stomach flu years ago that left him curled up in the shower, naked and definitely not wanting to be seen by anyone. Pure misery wrapped up in a shit burrito combined with praying no one found him like that if he died of it. He could only imagine Lucifer felt similar, minus the praying part.

His partner wasn't the only one who could drown in pride. After having spent far too long under a steady stream of cold water, he had cleaned the shower stall and crawled into bed before Chloe and Trixie got home. They never knew how violently sick he'd been.

He assisted Lucifer back to standing, with care. The latter's color began to return to something above 'vampire' and edging into 'Jim the albino Radiologist.'

Carla scooped up the sad, thin fabric and returned. "I can get you a couple of blankets too. There's an IV bag up on the rolling bed with a morphine drip. It automatically limits how much can be delivered over time, but I can override that."

Lucifer eyed the bed with open reluctance, leaning on Dan, who tried a gentle suggestion. "Might at least help the docs to find out how long it takes you to blow through a few doses of opiates."

The Devil sat on what could only be generously termed a mattress, stubbornly not dressing. "It's not like I measure out cocaine by the gram, but I suppose we can try."

Carla washed her hands and grabbed gloves and supplies from the box on the wall, ignoring the casual mention of substance abuse. She prepared the IV line and needle. Her expertise let her quickly find a good vein in his right arm. "We do need to get an IV in for surgery, so I'm _assuming_ you had a plan for that part if it came to it."

Dan motioned to the blonde Doctor. "She in your circle too? 'That part' has another layer of significance that maybe only you and his surgeon should know."

Carla glanced down at Elliot while sweeping a prepared alcohol wipe over the inside of his elbow. "Elliot was the one who asked Lucifer to come up last month so she could do a paper on his...Persona. If we need anyone else to run interference, she'd be the one to do it. So right now, we have a nurse, a doctor and a surgeon; that will be helpful."

She added, matter-of-factly, "Elliot's my best friend. She's a bit of a flake, but she's a good person and a good Doctor. We trust her."

Elliot had pulled herself up from where she'd been crouching by Lucifer. She shook herself. "I guess my paper will have to be shelved now."

Lucifer seemed to notice she was there again. "Why's that?"

"I wrote it on the assumption you _weren't_ something supernatural."

"Mistake on your part, I'm afraid." He sat stiffly, uncomfortable with the hubbub.

Dan chewed the inside of his lip, not liking how much pain Lucifer must actually be in. He made a decision.

Pulling out the wickedly curved one-handed dagger from inside his jacket, Dan presented it to Carla, handle first. Lucifer shied away from it out of long ingrained reflex, not yet keen to the fact that someone could be trusted with Mazes' knives who _wasn't_ Maze. Dan cringed at just having to port around the damn thing. He hoped they wouldn't ask him to do any of the _honors_.

"This blade can pierce his skin, and it's from a matching set of the only things on earth that can do it, under normal circumstances. Carla, he can be maimed or killed with it, and I'm trusting you guys with this knowledge. The set belongs to Maze, and this one doesn't leave my sight, or she'll use her other one on _me_. Understand?"

Affronted, Carla looked away from Lucifer to him. "I'm a _nurse_ , Dan, all pointy objects I use are tools, not weapons."

"I just want to impress on you how serious this thing is." Dan didn't even like the look of it, silver etched and every inch of deadly hell-forged metal, never mind the pretty design. Venomous snakes wear the brightest coloring, after all. He'd seen them in passing before he _knew_ , and anything even existing that could kill an immortal didn't rest easily on his mind. Especially since said immortal was _his_ , dammit.

Carla cocked her head, hands occupied and in gloves. "Elliot, can you use that thing to make me an incision here?"

The question knocked Dr. Reid into professional mode, much like Turk had responded when presented with a tough surgical job. "Give it here." Taking it, she tested the edge and tip with a thumb, eyeing it critically. "Shouldn't I sterilize this?"

Lucifer growled. "No need."

She took a quick look around for something to test the cutting edges on. Finding nothing else suitable, she settled for the tubing of her own stethoscope. Then, giving Lucifer a _very_ pointed look _,_ she disinfected it. She didn't care if he was Satan, God or whatever. Better safe than sorry. Satisfied, Elliot poised the pointed tip where Carla indicated. "Uh… will this hurt you worse than a normal knife would? If… you know, a normal knife would work on you? Because I've never cut open anyone who wasn't human. At least I don't think I did and…" Lucifer shot her a glare that made her stop her rambling. She took it as the only okay to go ahead she was going to get, so she went with it, doubts or not.

Carla tied on a tourniquet, yanking the rubber tight. A single drop of blood welled up against the knife point and Elliot got out of the way. Carla moved, slipping the IV needle through firmly, quickly and taping it in place. Lucifer grunted but didn't comment. The creepy blade edge made a horizontal tear in his skin rather than a pinhole - she didn't like it, but it worked.

"Okay." She took the pre-readied saline solution, connected the syringe to the IV line and slowly depressed the plunger, making sure the fluid didn't collect in a pocket, or even outside the vein. But it went in smoothly and she breathed out in relief. One obstacle down.

Elliot gingerly gave the dagger back to Dan, stepping away to wash her hands again. "Where did that thing come from?"

"You don't want to know. But that reminds me, Chloe? Are you still texting Maze?"

"Yeah, she's in the loop. _Not_ happy, but in the loop."

Dan tucked the blade back into his jacket, one-handed, the other holding Lucifer's. Elliot's heart turned over, watching them. The same kind of scenes played out here at the hospital over and over again - a nervous loved one and an unhappy patient stuck in various levels of pain or immobility. Or both.

Carla checked her watch, exchanged the syringe for the morphine drip and opened the line tap. She watched the first drops of morphine go into the line, monitoring her patient. "I'm starting with a dose based on your estimated body weight."

Lucifer sank back a little, Dan guiding him to a resting position so he wouldn't put weight on his left arm. The Devil clung to Dan's hand, perhaps without intending to. Warmth washed through his body, displacing at least some of the grinding, stabbing hot pokers embedded in his back.

He took a full breath for the first time in days and let it out in a low, relieved groan.

Dan unconsciously took a breath with him.

"I want to see how long a dose lasts before I give you more." Carla checked her watch again, jotting notes on the clipboard.

Turk grease-marked something else on his tablet. "It's going to take a while to find all the bits."

Dan peeked at the tablet. "Even with the x-ray?"

"Okay, I can't believe I'm saying this out loud, but since his skin healed over the wound - flawlessly - I'm going to guess that several muscles and tendons did too. Which means there's no clear path to either the bullets or fragments. They're more or less held in place, but could still slip around. The initial gunshot wound probably caused a lot of tissue damage, but I'm not seeing much of that now."

"Yeah, most of the time they just go straight through, or fall right back out."

"..."

"We _do_ try hard not to let him get shot when Chloe's around, but he gets...enthusiastic."

Elliot cocked her head. "What happens when she's not around?"

"Uhm. Nothing except ruined clothing." By the look on Lucifer's unhappy frown, that was a worse fate than the bullets currently ruining his _insides_.

Turk continued. " _Anyway_. He has some bones in here I don't even have names for. I hope the freaky _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ artifact isn't your only suggestion for getting into him. _Tell_ me you have another way for us to work on him."

"We do. Chloe has a… very unique effect on Lucifer, for reasons I'd rather not get into. When she's physically close enough, Lucifer can be hurt like anyone else." Dan gave Lucifer's hand a squeeze. "Otherwise, he's as he is now."

Carla glared. _Logistics. Keep thinking about logistics._ "Luci? You've got to be kidding me. You went in _knowing_ you could get hurt?"

Lucifer grimaced. "Actually, getting shot wasn't my intention. But, It's funny how when one spends enough time out of Hell, one grows slightly fond of one's coworkers. And _they_ were getting shot at." He looked down his body, as if surprised to notice Dan's hand still in his.

"Well, I can tell the morphine is working at least. Three minutes so far. Luci, can you give me a pain scale from one to ten?"

"Ten being Maybe a six. Opiates are one of Dad's better inventions."

She blew out. She _really_ wanted to ask what that was about Chloe shooting him, but now was definitely not the time. He sounded much more like himself though, voice less tight and clipped; nearly pain-free again, which was reassuring in and of itself. "Okay, you should be feeling less pain than that, even with the fractures. But if you don't mind, I'm going to wait until they're no longer affecting you to administer more."

Turk came back around. "Stupid question time. What the _hell_ are those extra bits? I have to carve around another shoulder joint? Because that's the closest comparison I can find."

Lucifer one-shoulder shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest what to call those, and I doubt you'll be cataloguing them. _I'll_ be fine if you have to sever things, but it won't be pretty if they pop out without a solid support structure." His lips tightened a little. "It won't be pretty if they pop out at all, actually."

"...If what pop out? Are you going to go all Alien on me? Cause if so, I'm handing this off to the Todd as primary. There's only so much weirdness I'm prepared to handle."

Lucifer and Dan looked at each other. Dan spoke. "They're wings. They're _a lot_ bigger than they look folded up. The vast majority of them aren't..." He gestured vaguely "…'here'."

Turk flipped his screen images between the different x-rays. "Bigger than a Turkey?"

Carla rolled her eyes. "Of course he goes straight to the farm birds."

"Ostrich?"

Dan rubbed his face. "More functional. Pretty classically what we think of as 'angel', actually. We were trying to avoid exposing you to them, but you and anyone else in the O.R. could be hurt if they come out during surgery. Lucifer's body eats drugs for breakfast though and we have no idea what will happen under anesthesia. So."

 _Logistics. Concentrate on what you need to do._ She checked her watch again. "Six minutes. "Luci?"

"It's wearing off."

She leaned over him, holding a pen light up to his eyes. _Dammit._ "Okay, I'll give it one more minute. You are going to give the anesthesiologist nightmares."

His breathing tightened again, hitched. He swallowed. "I'd rather not give anyone nightmares."

Carla jumped. _What did I say?_ She timed his pulse.

"Thirty more seconds. Hang in there, Chicken Little."

That distracted him. "What?"

Elliot snorted. "You're doomed. She gave you a nickname."

"Doomed? Don't be ridiculous. I know all about doomed, and this is not it. Nero, now, he was doomed. Did you know they built him his own bridge to enter Hell? It's all gilded arches and marble walkways. Soldiers cheering him on left and right. He honestly thought he was welcomed into heaven, right until the moment when he stepped of and the soldiers took their masks off. See, they were all people for whose death he had been directly responsible, people he actually knew and betrayed anyway."

"...I just meant that she likes you. But… good story, I think?" She turned around to Carla, trying to gauge her reaction, trying to get a pointer at how she should act, but her friend had apparently decided to ignore any weird things that came out of their patients mouth for the moment, and thus just went on as if no one had talked at all.

"I'm just triple checking your vitals before I give you more. I think we're good. I'm going to step you up now to a higher dose."

She pushed the meds again. He relaxed, breathing deeply and his eyes went a little unfocused. "That's nice, but I can think of much better reasons to be horizontal this long."

Dan rolled his eyes, but grinned. "Yup, he's feeling better already."

Turk's phone buzzed with a page "O.R. is ready. Todd wants to know why I haven't sent the x-rays yet. He'll have to sit on his hands until we get there. Dr. Page was on call for anesthesia."

Carla went behind Lucifer's bed. "Okay, Elliot, you go ahead and make sure our path is clear and Turk and I will follow you. I only need a minute to pile a few blankets on him. Dan, can you grab them out of that cabinet?"

Chloe's voice drifted over, "Hey, which side of the hospital is the O.R. on?"

"Right wing from the main parking lot. _Your_ right facing the hospital. We should hang up now, but text if you need to."

Lucifer grumbled. "Can't you just do this with me awake?"

Turk and Carla exchanged a look, answering simultaneously. "No."

He huffed. "Well, why not? I participated in the Greatest Fall of History - unwilling or not. I'm sure this can't be any worse than _that_." Unimpressed stares. _Really now, this is ridiculous_.

"How about just drugging me to the gills?"

Turk patted his leg through the scratchy hospital blankets. "You're going to be fine, buddy."

"I am _not_ your buddy. And the lights are nauseating. Half of your drop tiles should be replaced."

Exasperated, "Just close your eyes and stop looking at the ceiling."

Dan walked on Lucifer's left. More empty beds rested against the hallway walls. "Hey, if you need blood, can I donate?"

Carla smiled across from him, on the other side of the rolling bed. "That's a sweet thought, Cuz. We don't have his blood typed yet, but we should have time to take a unit of double red cells from you, since they still have to prep Todd. Keep in mind, they won't be able to use it if you aren't a match, but it'll get used by _someone_ even if he can't."

"Yeah, I'd like to do that. Or maybe Chloe can if I'm not."

The Devil piped up. "My body should be able to just use it. Nothing human or human-made can harm me. Usually. Are we there yet?"

Turk sighed. "How about you let us run the type test and we'll decide so we don't accidently cause massive blood clots?"

"Do I get any say in the matter?"

"At this point, you really don't."

Lucifer swallowed. He reached up to rub at his chest

He coughed.

It was a little thing - a short, contracted exhale.

Dan ran his fingers through Lucifer's hair gently. He was in a cold sweat again. "The morphine must be working, at least. Chloe's nearby again and he's still not passing out from pain." he texted her to tell her she's in the right place for surgery, now, and to back away until called.

Lucifer's breathing became shallow and rapid. Confusion and not a little tension crept up his face.

Carla stopped rolling and yanked her stethoscope off her neck. It didn't take her long to figure out what went wrong, not for something this common in an ICU. Red flags flew. Her husband caught it too, exchanging a look with her.

"Hey, Dan? Do me a favor and tell Chloe to get in here? And to be quick about it?"

To his credit, he didn't ask any questions, just squeezed Lucifer's hand once, reassuringly. He stepped away and hit speed dial with a backward glance. Chloe picked up on the first ring.

"Hey, did you move away yet?"

"Yeah, I went back to where I started." She sounded a little miffed.

"Right. Change of plans. Get in here. We're outside the O.R., follow the signs to your right? Right from the front door." A second of silence, then with an inhaled breath, "Alright. On it." There was a time to question instructions and a time to follow them, she knew which was which.

Dan dropped the phone into his pocket, not bothering to jab the red 'end call' symbol. Returning at a fast clip to Lucifer's side, a few steps that suddenly felt longer.

"She's comin-" Dan arrested his movement, eyes drawn to the minor but telling differences in Lucifer's exposed skin. He wanted the onsetting bluish tinge to be either a trick of the light or his imagination, but he feared otherwise. The brick that dropped into the pit of his stomach didn't help either. The fact that his Devil seemed mostly out of it, hand lax in his, eyes more than halfway closed, didn't help at all. _No, no no no…_

His heart wound up like a screw, forgetting to breathe himself. "...Carla?"

His cousin's face grew soft and worried, which made _him_ worry more. She drew up to meet his lighter eyes, 'Nurse Face' fully engaged. "His lung collapsed, don't worry-"

"Don't worry?! What the fuck! Do something!"

Okay, so maybe it's not a good idea to shout at the people trying to help, but give him a break. Even heavenly beings needed functional lungs. _And_ breath to fucking survive!

"Dan, sweetie, it will be fine. We're nearly in the O.R. and he's still getting enough air until we get there. Calm down, you're not helping him. Talk to him." She motioned to the prone man, whose eyes were a bit more open now, tracking them. Worried. Afraid, even if he'd never admit it.

 _Deep breaths, Espinoza. You can lose the plot later._ "Yeah. Okay, yeah… so hey, Luce, did I ever tell you about Trixie's first time riding a bike? Chloe and I…" It was an easy 'go-to' story, one he'd told before at kids parties to other adults and it rolled off his tongue without thinking too hard about it.

He didn't know if Lucifer was listening to the story, or just to his voice, but he seemed calmer either way. They got Lucifer into the O.R. and onto the table there in record time.

Chloe rounded the corner just then. She had her badge out and visible, meaning she flashed it at someone on the way in, but still missing seeing them by seconds. She found the observation window, leaning on it.

They got him settled as fast as possible. By now, Lucifer barely noticed anything at all, the morphine and lack of _air,_ even with the oxygen mask now covering his nose and mouth _,_ taking their toll even on him.

Carla kept checking the boxes on everything they did against protocol. There were barely any fucking boxes _left_ by now.

None of them were properly scrubbed in, Todd was sitting in a corner, banned there by her glare, and the anesthesiologist kept shooting them worried glances. But needs must, so Turk slapped on a mask and a fresh pair of gloves - foregoing proper procedure again - took a scalpel and turned himself into the first human being to perform surgery on the Devil. Probably.

This was a problem more or less easily alleviated until the real fix could be done. Tiny incision, insert tube, fixate tube. Barring further complications, that would do the trick for now.

Dan tasted acid in his throat. He had seen bodies in truly horrible shape, but nothing trumped the sound of air being released from Lucifer's pleural space or the wet bubbling when the blood started to flow out from where it shouldn't have been in the first place. Police work somehow seemed easier than watching a loved one rescued by piercing a hole in them. _And leaving the fucking tube in._

Lucifer's color improved rapidly. After the first few proper breaths he seemed to be more aware of his surroundings. His near-black eyes focused on the much hated overhead lights, then Dan.

Dan let go of Lucifer's hand, and a breath, feeling like things were under control again. It went against every single hospital rule for him to be in here at all. There was no way he was going to be allowed to stay here during the actual surgery, nor did he actually want to. "See you on the other side." _Simple. Keep it simple for now, don't break down where he can see._

Lucifer smirked from the bed, attempting not to look miserable. "That can have other connotations you know." He winced with speaking but looked relieved he could.

"You know what I mean, Satan."

"Douche."

Turk shook his head. "J. never feel pissy about 'Bambi' ever again. I'll send you over to the vampire unit and you won't see me again until after surgery. Any last things we should know?"

"Most of the feathers have sharp edges?" It fell flat, as far as jokes went, but he was trying not to panic. His hands were firmly stuffed into his pockets so nobody would notice them shaking from the adrenaline rush. He worked on breathing normally.

"Okay, great. So I get to look forward to possible death by a thousand paper cuts, too?"

"...I'll just go get my butt to the blood center and hope they don't disqualify me."

"You do that. I still have to explain John Doe and what we need to do surgically, to Todd."

The Detective hesitated. "Can I have a second?"

"We're on the clock and off the books, remember? Make it quick."

Dan bit his lip, glancing at Turk, who rolled his eyes. Probably having already seen every version _ever_ of this before.

Lucifer looked up expectantly, quirking his lips.

He darted in, pushed down the mask and cupped Lucifers jaw softly, stubble scratching his fingers. "We'll be waiting for you." he breathed in, pressing a quick kiss that Lucifer returned with more energy Dan thought he would have had to spare.

"Y'all are disgustingly cute. Now shoo, Cuz."

Dan ducked his head and took off.

Post scrubbing in, Todd regarded their patient with oddly minor curiosity. Turk frankly had counted on it, relieved he didn't ask too many questions unrelated to the planned procedure itself.

Turk ran an eye over everything, again. "Just think of him as our very own X-Men. Man. The one with the wings."

Above the oxygen mask, Lucifer's eyes took in the room, which was both good _and_ bad. Good because the chest tube seemed to be doing its job. Bad because…well, _for fucks sake, the guy chewed through morphine like Cox through new interns._

"Dude! Archangel five!", holding his hand up.

Lucifer glared.

Turk shook his head. "Todd, just 'Angel'. Archangel was the upgrade, he got replacement wings made of some kind of silvery-blue metal. Angel had 'regular' wings."

Lucifer glared harder. He was _not_ an X-man, no matter that he actually had replacement wings.

Todd seemed to think about it. "...Dude,"

"Metal wings would be harder to work around. Probably heavier too."

Todd glanced up at the surgical lights mounted from the ceiling. "Do we need wing clamps?"

Turk paused in arranging his tray of delicate instruments. Lucifer rolled his eyes straight back. "We should be good."

Lucifer's eyes asked a question.

"Oh, Dan's blood turned out to work fine, so will Chloe's. You'll want to know that you're AB positive, so you can accept anyone's blood. Should save us from having to use our in-house supply."

For some reason, Lucifer looked vaguely annoyed at the news. Turk wasn't sure which part he reacted to.

"Okay, _Angel_ , that nice lady over there, Dr. Paige Page - yes, that's her real name, no, there's no joke she _hasn't_ heard about it before - is going to count back from ten and you should be out by the time she gets to six. We're in an operating room with an observation lounge, so Dan and Chloe may or may not come by to watch, depending on their ability to stomach watching us digging around in your back for scrap metal."

"And last thing -" He stood poised near what looked suspiciously like a an old-style _CD_ player. "I hope you like _Bell Biv Davoe."_

Chloe leaned on Dan, standing at the observation window. The 'vampires' only took one unit of blood. She didn't meet the weight requirement to donate two, and she didn't even look like she could fudge her numbers for it.

She could see the doctors talking to one another, but the thick reinforced glass made it nearly impossible to make out anything other than that they had some kind of music playing. In the observation lounge, the air-conditioning vents hummed, generating white noise. Turk did a little dance shuffle, making her chuckle in her throat. They moved casually, confidently, getting down to business and taking up positions at the table that were familiar to them, even if the man on the table wasn't.

Chloe felt helpless. Lucifer actually was.

Because of her.

Again.

Lucifer explained the 'vulnerability' issue. Really explained, after she saw him for who he was. She since heard about the him going to hell, but she hadn't been aware at the time. She hadn't seen him lying dead. He wasn't dying here, but chronic pain was no picnic either.

One of the many things she loved about him was that nothing held him back. She didn't know how the body/soul thing worked though. If he died here, would he be stuck in hell? Would he be a soul only, or would he have a real, physical body? What would happen to his actual body - would it rot, like any other, or stay perfect and unchanged forever? There was a reason his vulnerability was a problem, right, not just temporary death?

He was under anesthesia and on his stomach, a sheet covering most of him. Under his black satin penthouse sheets, his form looked completely different. There was something about just _being_ in a hospital that added tension to everything. She could barely make out the too-rhythmic breathing of the ventilator they'd put him on. She knew it had to happen. She did. She knew that for whatever reason, his angelic constitution couldn't deal with the metal fragments. That wouldn't even be _in_ him if not for her.

The three medical professionals didn't so much as glance toward the observation window, invested in preparation. Dr. Page monitored the various machines and other hardware clinging to her Devil so closely she didn't have attention to spare anyone else. She wasn't participating in whatever Todd and Turk were doing.

Steel flashed under the operating room light, and Turk spared them a single look over his face mask to see if they wanted to move away now. They didn't.

Elliot came through the doors, looking, well, sane."Hey, guys."

Chloe turned a little startled, "Elliot? Hi. Sorry, do you prefer Dr. Reid here?"

"Whichever. Just don't call me mole-butt."

"...You got it. You ever do...surgery?"

"Nah. We all went through the same classes though, which included cutting into cadavers. I prefer responsive patients whenever possible. Ella probably did some of the same training to get into forensics."

She nodded, mind not really on the responses, "Turk is...good, right?"

"He wouldn't have lasted this long if he wasn't. From what I hear, only Todd is higher on the surgical totem pole for Residents. For real though, Turk asks for more difficult surgeries all the time, and gets them. This one is pretty straight-forward - the removing-stuff-from-people-thing is pretty standard."

Dan broke away from staring through the window, incredulous. "Todd? The high-five guy?"

She laughed, combing her bangs out of her face. "Totally. He doesn't get in his own head. They're the best two you could ask for, aside from Dr. Wen, Head of Surgery."

Chloe arched an eyebrow. "Either way, I owe you guys a few rounds of drinks. And then some. Uhm. I didn't catch everything over the phone, are you...?"

"Okay since I found out my paper is probably useless? I don't know if you have heard of my ability to dive headfirst into a steaming pot of denial, but it's working pretty well right now." She nodded to herself. "Everything aside, getting to look at something new, medically, is always fascinating. And this is new. Who knows, maybe we'll end up getting more strange visitors in need of help."

"You'd be okay with that?"

"Are you kidding? How exciting would that be? I mean, not that it would become a recognized specialty or anything. But still. Turk is probably kicking himself because he knows he can't publish anything about about this. I know I am."

Dan looked back at the procedure now underway. He swallowed. Turk had been busy - several skin clamps were employed, poking up like a silver porcupine to make a clear operating area. Todd appeared to be carefully lifting a ...bloodied _something_ for Turk with another thin instrument, from opposite sides of their patient. They were still working within the expanded incision, so not much was actually visible from their angle. Thankfully.

Turk caught them watching, so he displayed a bit of metal in surgical tongs for them. It was barely visible, but he held it aloft like a gory trophy. He dropped it in a metal bowl and went back in, switching to long, narrow tweezers.

Elliot stepped up closer to watch with them. "See, he's already getting stuff out of him."

Dan held Chloe. She buried her nose in his shoulder, breathing in his comforting, familiar scent,taking the comfort offered. Minutes passed and Chloe found herself starting to accept that the goofy men on the other side of the glass knew what they were doing.

She directed a question at Elliot. "Did you always want to be a doctor?"

"Since I was little. Yeah. I thought about going the vet route instead, but all cats hate me for some reason. I only get along with Rowdy because he's stuffed. Oh, and also, goats? Nasty, disgusting things."

"Goats?"

"Goats and rabbits despise me. Those assholes bite. Pretty much everything bites. Have you ever had a rabbit bark at you? It's a little unnerving."

"Lucifer doesn't like goats either. I think that's the second time I've heard about 'Rowdy'?"

Elliot didn't miss a beat. "Turk and J.D.'s dead golden retriever."

Chloe didn't know what to make of that. Dan spared them a glance.

"Oh, they found him that way, at a yard sale. He wasn't actually _their_ dog."

 _Is that better or worse?_ "Uh huh. Are the three of them… ?"

"Pfft. No. J.D. and Turk are the walking definition of a bromance, but that's all. It's actually really nice to see men who aren't terrified to be close friends in public. True fact: Turk will hug J.D., but no one else he isn't married to."

"Speaking of which, is anyone going to come looking for you? Dan mentioned something in passing about J.D.?"

"Nah, I told _him_ the Janitor told _me_ that he came back to work tonight to stalk him in one of the men's bathrooms. He's totally preoccupied with going down to the bar to pee. Which means he'll be doing it every ten to fifteen minutes out of sheer paranoia for at least another hour. He'll probably hear about our John Doe eventually, but he'll be out of our hair tonight."

A smirk crossed Chloe's face. "That's funny."

"What is?"

"John Doe. J.D."

Elliot giggled. "I'm so using that the next time we get a real John Doe admitted."

"Still, you don't want your other doctor friend in on this?"

She crossed her arms against the cold room. "Naaaaaaaaaaaaah. Not yet. I'm still mad at him for dumping me at Carla's rehearsal dinner. Plus, there's nothing to diagnose, which is kinda his bag. Turk won't be able to keep his mouth shut, at least to J.D., but a month or so will pass where he thinks Turk is pulling a massive prank on him, then he'll come to me after he figures out I _was_ actually here, and then I get to mess with him some more. So I basically win all around. For me, that is."

"He _dumped_ you at a wedding rehearsal dinner?"

"Yuuuuup."

"Screw that guy."

"Ha! Never again."

The levity helped Chloe. No matter what, Lucifer would live through this. He wasn't in mortal danger, even if life had sucked for him for the last week.

And then Lucifer's shoulders flexed. Todd and Turk looked at Dr. Page, who did something.

Dan noticed it too, his throat suddenly dry. "Is that supposed to happen?"

Elliot squinted at the table inside. "What?"

All three of them leaned in together to peer through the window.

The leading edge of white feathers _slammed_ into the reinforced glass with a blunt thud.

"FRICK!" Elliot plastered herself against the far wall, grabbing at the neck of her scrubs.

Dan yelped, "Son of a bitch!" Chloe had embedded her nails into his forearm.

"CHRIST ON A BIKE!" Five seconds punctuated by metallic clattering passed over an eternity. Turk's voice carried over again, a little thready. "We're okay. X-man missed us."

Dan yelled, "Is _he_ okay?!"

The closer wing edge slid down the window, revealing a mess. The far one, the left one, was more red than white. It had sent a number of instruments flying and violently overturned a cart. Crimson coated feathers appeared to stick to the opposite O.R. wall with bloody surface tension. Lucifer's body hadn't moved. He wasn't awake mid-surgery, at least.

Turk indicated the comm wasn't two-way, but added, "Sorry, I meant all of us! He's okay too! We have some more work to do though. I'm pretty sure he threw out a bullet too." He looked up at the ceiling, presumably for said bullet. Todd was a little cross-eyed. "He didn't throw out anything important."

Chloe held her mouth. Her stomach roiled. Where the left wing erupted from the damaged shoulder, it angled a bit _wrong_. Tendon and pale, gleaming bone anchored where she might have expected it, but a longer flat bit stuck up, away, wet strings of viscera stretched taut between bone and body. Where the wing normally blended into skin, a torn gash the entire width of the wing base gaped wide, short wet feathers above and raw skin edge below.

The ventilator pumped, tubes undisturbed. Lucifer's IV, however, ripped out in the commotion, yanked by his own wing.

Todd snapped out of it, checking their patient and hurried to get a new needle out of sterile packing and into the thankfully-still-unconscious man, re-connecting it to the IV bags.

That done, he moved under and re-positioned the blood spattered wing so it wasn't pulling itself out of the socket with its own weight. He propped it up over another rolling cart, while Turk walked back and forth a few times, nodded and went back to work. "Would one of you mind telling Carla I'm gonna need a new pair of scrub pants after this? For them too, probably. Actually, Elliot, scrub in and join us here, I think we need more hands. I need a new set of sterile tools, too."

Dr. Page hadn't moved a fraction of an inch, maintaining her task at hand. They didn't know if she remained just that focused or was slipping into shock. EIther way, Lucifer himself didn't come out from under the drugs.

When Turk felt certain the last fragment had been found and removed, they sent Chloe out again.

Turk was easily persuaded not to install a plate and screws. They had sent Chloe away after all the foreign objects had been removed and, lo and behold, flesh and bone did indeed begin to knit together right under their noses. Stitches also proved unnecessary. Dan called Chloe back the _second_ the last signs of the incisions on his back had disappeared again.

Within minutes of Paige slumping away from her machine, Lucifer came out of it..

Regardless, he couldn't be wheeled out of the O.R. with his wings dragging on the floor.

De-tubed, all around, he eagerly pulled himself into a sitting position. Then he took in the blood spattered surgeons.

"That seems like a rather lot of-" Lucifer caught a view behind him. "Well, this is slightly awkward."

He spotted his Detectives outside the observation window and waved at them.

Turk got his attention. "Uhm. Can you put those things away so we can clean up?"

Lucifer fluffed his sticky left wing. Or tried to. "Have you got a hose?"

Paige opted not to even turn around until everyone else had left.

Chloe perched on the hospital bed next to Lucifer, both sitting up. Their hospital helpers insisted he stay for at least a little while just for observation. The Devil flatly refused to put the gown back on, and finally got his trousers and jacket back, both items lying folded on a chair. In the meantime, he went buff under the blanket.

Before too long, Carla knocked and came in with a little glass jar, marked 'HAZARDOUS WASTE'. Several metal bits tinked against each other inside, sharp and shattered.

"I thought you might want to take a look at these, maybe take them back with you."

Dan took the jar from her. "They are kinda weird. Were any of the bullets intact?"

"Nope. This is everything Turk and Todd removed. He thought something embedded into the ceiling but they couldn't find it."

"Might as well bring these back to Ella. Maybe she can figure out which gun fired them. We had multiple shooters that night."

Carla tucked her hands in her pockets. "How are you doing, Luci?" She noted the lack of a gown. "I just wanted to look at your shoulder if that's okay?"

He smiled and started to hop out of the bed.

She coughed. "You can stay there."

Lucifer's velvet voice was back with a vengeance. "You've already seen everything, darling."

Chloe smirked.

Carla licked her lips. He really _was_ temptation itself, wasn't he? "You're also a foot and a half taller than me."

He gamely stayed on the bed, turning for her, but not without throwing in a 'your loss' look.

Carla manipulated his shoulders, one then the other, checking his range of motion. Not something she would normally do on a patient an hour out of surgery.

He looked good, but she grumbled anyway. "By rights, you should be here another week. You all can go home, soon, we're just organizing the paperwork. You blew through about 26 hours worth of anesthesia so we're trying to figure out how to explain that. And before you offer to pay the bill, it's not a matter of just charging you for it, as it was used in a _two hour_ period."

Lucifer stretched when she let go, arms above his head. "This almost feels better than sex, after a week of not being able to stretch properly." He was well aware she got a fantastic view of his back. He arched, reaching for the ceiling. "You and your colleagues do good work."

"Uhmmm."

Dan couldn't help but grin at her face. He did have a _very_ nice backside.

"Would it help if I offered to make a donation, if the dreaded _paperwork_ doesn't allow for an itemized bill?"

"Oh, I'm sure it would, but it might need to be a bit more than we would actually figure out how to charge you?"

"Shouldn't be a problem."

She smiled wryly. "Make it enough, and you get a wing named after you, or at least a conference room."

He made a last sensual groan and dropped his arms. "Oh, that sounds fun. The Lucifer Morningstar Wing at Sacred Heart?"

Carla fanned herself and stepped away. "Ahem. Speaking of wings?" She picked at her stethoscope.

"Yes?"

"Can I…?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes dramatically, gathering the blanket around his waist this time, before swinging off the bed. "I don't do this for just anyone, you know."

The following morning, the Janitor was called to fix a resistant door in surgery. After checking all the hinges and finding nothing, he poked into the top and bottom edges. A single long, white, now thoroughly mangled and blood-encrusted feather was jammed into an overhead corner.


End file.
